


the lying bastard and his sweater

by lurKINGaroundd



Series: 3AM [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Romance, alternative universe, lots of flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 16:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurKINGaroundd/pseuds/lurKINGaroundd
Summary: It was an unspoken thing, but a so clear deal to what they were going to do in his apartment, both of them alone, especially after their talks about motels, hotels and such.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: 3AM [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444216
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	the lying bastard and his sweater

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a prompt on tumblr, and decided to post it here too.
> 
> It’s been some time, but I finally had some free time and energy to do this. I hope it’s not too disappointing.

** “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” **

“I’m sorry, Peter.” MJ liked to add ‘Peter’ to every sentence possible now that she knew his name. By the way, she wasn’t sorry at all. “Even though it’s tempting, I’m trying not to act like your place is a crime scene.” 

He chuckled. Peter was just teasing MJ for her observant eyes that were unapologetic acting since the moment she stepped foot on the apartment, so he didn’t mind her equally teasing response.

His apartment was coldly decorated, it wasn’t really like him, it didn’t paint the picture of Peter Parker on its walls and floor. She expected it to be at least a little bit messy, and yet somehow and somewhat weirdly aesthetically pleasing, just like him. MJ didn’t find any of it.

It was an unspoken thing, but a so clear deal to what they were going to do in his apartment, both of them alone, especially after their talks about motels, hotels and such.

Peter sat on the couch located at the living room with the big screen TV. MJ took just one more glance around, and as he invited her to sit by his side with a gesture, she just thought to herself with a smile on her face, _ what a lying bastard. _

Peter tried to turn the TV on once, and then twice, and nothing. After that, he thought to check the equipment itself, and realized the television hasn’t been connected to the power, and because of that, obviously, it wasn’t working.

He connected it to the power, and got back to the couch, by her side, finally turning the TV on. 

MJ scoffed. Sarcastically or mockingly, she didn’t really know anymore.

“What?” Peter asked, slightly confused at her debauchery. 

She could’ve dodged honesty to make up something silly to tell him, but as she found him seated by her side, instead of seated behind a counter like she was used to at a bar, she forgot how to make something up out of thin air.

Boldly, but not feeling like it, MJ declared, “You don’t live here.”

Peter could’ve have gasped in surprise, but instead of shouting ‘What?’, he just sighed, and questioned, “Do you care to elaborate on that?”

Their relationship… or at least her part was built on most of times saying not exactly what she was thinking or really meant. She assumed it was the same on his part. They both liked to speak in code, in some cryptic language, as if it was part of the thrill to try and find out the treasure behind every word. Really, it was a thrill, but it also was a way of protecting themselves. 

“This place doesn’t look like you at all.” She told him exactly what she had been thinking the whole time.

MJ was being straight-forward this time. Perhaps afraid of just being so vulnerable with Peter being directly by her side, not giving her the comfort to say anything else, being inside an unusual place that wasn’t packed with drunk losers and a shitty live-band playing, without a bar counter to protect her from his charming shenanigans.

Before he could answer, MJ tried to reason with herself. She chose this, she was here because she wanted to. Peter didn’t steal her away or took any of her choices. ‘Calm down, calm down’, she told herself, unfortunately thinking that she wasn’t as a brave as she expected to be.

“This couch is dusty.” MJ kept talking. “The whole place is, actually, filled with dust, as if no one has been living here for quite awhile.”

Peter wasn’t mad, at least not obviously so, and a hint of a smile could be seen. MJ hoped she had seen it right.

“There you go, Sherlock.” He said. “What more made it so obvious?”

MJ concluded that his only choice was to be cool about it. He had lied to her by saying this was her place, so if he acted otherwise she could go and tell him to eat shit. Well, then, of course he was cool about it, it was kind of part of their, again, unspoken, agreement not to get too mad about whatever stuff they were hiding.

“You couldn’t even turn on your own TV.” MJ added. “Which, I guess, could be a normal accident, but I just have this feeling that you’d know everything there’s to know about your own place, even if that place is a mess, and I’m 68% sure that your place is a mess, and nothing like this one we are right now.”

His facial expression showed genuine excitement, nothing planned beforehand, so MJ hoped they were in the same page on this thing about trying to be a little more voluntarily true to one another.

“You’re really good at this.” Peter said, because it was the truth. “Anyway, is there anything you wanna watch?”

When MJ woke up, she didn’t feel the nice comforting shoulder that she had felt vaguely when she started to drift off to sleep on the couch with Peter.

She looked at the hour and saw it was morning and Peter wasn’t there. MJ didn’t really care, it was good actually, she had some space to think things over. She tried to recall the TV show they were watching. MJ was kind of interested by the characters though she didn’t care the slightest about the plot that involved something about lawyers, juries and criminals or something. She didn’t believe in the legal system to be captivated by it at all.

Recovering her sense of self, the most she could gather, MJ noticed a note on the center table at the living room.

** (I didn’t want to wake you up, you just looked so peaceful.) **

_ The motherfucker, _ she thought. Nice enough of him, even though he didn’t give a hint of why he had to leave.

MJ eyed the sweater he had left behind, and after looking at her phone and seeing that the temperature had dropped one degree, she decided it was an excuse good enough for what she was about to write in response to his note. 

So in the same paper, right underneath his written words, she wrote, ** (Would it be okay if I borrowed your sweater?) ** _ It smells like you… _ That last part she didn’t dare to write it down. 

If Peter didn’t bother to comeback to this place that clearly wasn’t his home to see her note, then it would be his problem. 

That sweater was hers now.

**Author's Note:**

> (English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes.)
> 
> For a cotinuation of this story, request a line from this prompt list: https://lurkingg-around.tumblr.com/post/186533588911/angstfluff-prompt-list-5
> 
> Tumblr: @lurkingg-around
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
